Who: Selphie Tilmitt, Irvine Kinneas
Where:  Irvine and Selphie's Dorm
Why:  Selphie's doing a good job of domesticating the Woild Irvine.
Date of Log:  9/20/00





Semi-fresh out of the shower, Selphie perches comfortably on the bed, various magazines strewn about around her. Hair damp and in a ponytail, she's given her dress a little break; instead wearing a pink tanktop and before-seen shortish shorts. Those aren't really readily seen, however, since an open magazine sits in her lap -- the page opened to a largish picture of a model in a wedding dress. Hunched over slightly, studying the words on the opposite page, Selphie has the other various magazines opened, bookmarked, or placed pages-down on the bed to mark her place. 'Modern Bride,' 'Bridal Fashion,' you know -- THOSE types.

The door, which is usually unlocked anyway, swings open gently, the man of the house returning, or something like that anyway. Irvine's been out and about, mostly in the training area. He's been kinda quiet lately, something's bugging him since he talked to Seifer the night previous. Loathe to say what it is, though, he decided to take out the inner aggressions and frustrations on the poor critters that inhabited the training area. It worked for the most part. Tired, though invigorated, he didn't manage to go totally without injury this time, a nice red claw mark down his chest. It had been bleeding, which is obvious by the bloodstains on his tattered vest, but has since begun to scab over, though the wound is still an angry, throbbing, bright red. He has to pause there a moment, just smiling as he sees his sunflower sitting on the bed, not noticing what magazines she's reading. Nope, all he wants to see is her.

At the sound of said Man of the Dorm returning, Selphie doesn't even look up. She does, however, greet him nonetheless. "--Hey Irrrvy." Placing a finger on the word she's stopping at, the girl then glances upwards to the Irvine, grinning now. "--You -so- have to see th--" Eek! A wound! "--Irvy, you -do- know you're hurt, right?" Placing the magazine pages down on the bed, she scrambles off of it, hopping close to the cowboy. "Ooooo, that looks like it smarts... --Tch, did you kill it?" She, of course, assumes that Irvine has in fact been in the Training Center, and that a monster got the better of him. Not like it's anything new around this place, hence her semi-casual attitude. Semi-worried, since it's obviously nothing too serious, her hand hovers over the mark, wanting to touch it yet holding back. "--Let me get something to put on it!"

Opening his mouth to respond, Irvine promptly shuts it again as Selphie bounds over the orginal question with another. Then another. Then offering to find something for it. Finally, as she gives him an opening, he replies to all of it, "Yes, I know I'm hurt, it is quite dead now, and no, I'll get it." Actually, he was considering just taking a shower, so long as she hasn't stolen all the hot water. It's obvious she had a shower recently. He doesn't flinch away from her, even as she seems so curious that she might actually touch the wound. Stepping around her, he pulls out the case from under his bed to put the Ulysses away again, to be cleaned after -he's- clean. He smells like exertion sweat and gunpowder right now and really wants to get rid of it. "Now," he says, still crouched over the case as he closes it again to slide it back from whence it came, "What were you saying originally?"

Gushity gush gush. "--You -sure-?", is asked of Irvine attending to the ouchie himself. And no, there's still hot water -- kind of like in a hotel. It just doesn't go away! Turning to watch him pack away his gun, Selphie did note at least the gunpowder smell, something she's rather grown to like as of late. Mm! "--Oh!" Trotting back to the bed, then, she picks up one of the magazines that was bookmarked. "You -have- to see this!" Flipflipflip... Ah! Here we are! Holding the magazine out for Irvine to look at, a picture of a model in a -horridly- cowgirlish wedding dress takes up both pages. White boots, white cowboy hat, complete with veil, -fringe- on the trim of the dress, things like that. Selphie -beams-. She thought he'd like it, though she's not exactly thinking about -wearing- it.

Irvine glances up for a moment, still crouched on the floor after shoving the case under the bed. He studies it impassively for a long moment, kinda unsure how he feels about it. It's cute, but it doesn't seem like -Selphie-, honestly. He doesn't want to hurt her feelings though, especially if she really likes it or something. "Well, it's cute." That's all he can say, really, trying to be neutral about it. "Is that what you want?" He's actually hoping not. Yes, the boy loves his western wear, but he doesn't want Selphie dressing up in something like that unless she -really- wants to. Rising now to his feet, he pulls the duster off, draping it over the chair for the time being so he can pull the now ruined vest off. There's traces of blood smeared around his abdomen too, a few residual scratches also seen there. Whatever it was, it sure tried to turn the cowboy into lunch.

"Oh, no way! I just saw it and thought of you, is all! They have some -weird- dresses in these things." Selphie closes the magazine, tossing it on the bed, then. However, she then thinks better of it, turning and clearing the magazines into one pile, bookmarking where needed. "Like, one of 'em was cut really really short, and then had thigh-high white boots... Major weirdness." Turning, magazines now gathered to her chest, the girl oh!s at the other scratches and such on his poor self. "--God! You poor thing! Get in there n'clean those things up right now, mister." Ehee. Selphie does, however, bounce onto her tiptoes and turn her cheek up. Better kiss her first, dangit, else she'll flush the toilet when she hears the shower on.

Whew. Irvine's actually relieved to hear her say that. He has a feeling he's in for a -lot- of strangeness as the whole wedding planning stuff kicks in. They haven't even set a date yet, eesh. Peeling off the gloves, he chuckles as he listens to her mention the other types of dresses. Weddings not being a keen focal point to him, he's never really looked, but is sure Selphie will show him as she finds them. "That was sweet of you, Darlin'." He glances at the wound again and shrugs nonchalantly. He's had worse, after all, and it doesn't even really hurt at the moment, other then a very dull ache. The shower, on the other hand, will probably sting like hell. Reaching up to tug the ponytail ring from his hair, letting it fall free around his shoulders, he leans over to give Selphie that kiss on the cheek. Can't have her flushing that toilet, after all. "I was just about to do just that. Good idea." He winks roguishly, and turns toward the bathroom.

Selphie beams, back flat on her feet. Siiigh, that hair! That manly, chiseled-- Er, yes. "Don't forget to wash behind you ee~aars," she lilts, dropping the stack o'magazines on the desk chair. No one ever sits in it, anyway. She does, however, pluck the top magazine to keep for reading purposes, whilest Irvine showers. There -are- some weird things in these mags, though. If Selphie wanted to make a fashion statement, she surely wouldn't want to start on her Wedding Day. Eek, Wedding Day. They should set a date, shouldn't they...?

Pausing before entering the bathroom, Irvine glances over his shoulder to give Selphie a strange look. Wash behind his ears? "Yes, dear." Another wink and then he's through the door, shutting it behind him. The shower doesn't take too long, though a blatant and hissed intake of breath is heard over the sound of running water. Looks like he finally got to cleaning the wound. Thoughts of wedding dates and dresses are subsituted for Squall and his growing insanities and Seifer, who seems so damn convincing that something -has- to be done. *sigh* The water eventually shuts off, the sound of Irvine moving around in the bathroom for another five or so minutes, and then the door opens again, and out comes a cowboy in just his jeans. Hair wet and combed back away from his face, the length of it running down his back.

Having just last night visited Squall, she didn't ask anything. Sure, she KNOWS there's stuff going on that she's being left in the dark about, but she wanted to cheer him up, not bog him down. Selphie even helped him name the new fish he bought! And brought him cookies, to boot. He even grinned and laughed, which she was very proud of, and all. Squall going insane is just not something that she's thought about. Looking up as Irvine re-enters the room, Selphie's again perched on the bed, reading her magazine. She's -trying- to get a grasp on all this crazy Wedding Stuff, having previously not known a THING about it. "Feel better now?", is asked in a sing-song voice, and insert a toothy grin afterwards. Go fig. At least the wound won't get all infected now.

The wound is still a nice angry red, especially after being subjected to water and soap and scrubbing. But, the remnants of blood are removed. He gives her a half-smirk in response, head canting slightly to the side as he just kinda watches her on the bed, noticing the short shorts she's wearing. The ones he really -really- likes. Almost as much as her usual dress. "Much better." If he knew what she'd done for Squall, well, he might not be as apt to consider the boy Commander to be insane. But, he doesn't, so... moving to sit on the edge of the bed, he leans back on his palms, cornflower blue eyes glancing at the magazine with a feigned curiousity. Wedding stuff just isn't his thing, at all. But, he wants to be a good fiance and you know, be there if she wants him to be. Just don't ask him to make many decisions.

"Good!" Beam. Looking back down to her magazine Selphie notes, "Listen to this!" Ahem. Reading the text aloud, she reads some statistics on how much the man helps out in the planning process these days. She does, of course, change the percentages for 'helpful' to be considerably more than they are in the little pie chart, and thusly lowers the 'unhelpful' number to accomodate. "--Isn't that cool?" Read: 'You WILL be helping me. Oh yes. You will.'

Quietly eyeing his fiancee with a touch of wariness, Irvine most definately sees where -this- is going. "I see," he answers flatly as she finishes reading from the magazine. Scooting a little closer, he tries to peer over the top of the magazine to see where she's reading that from. The faint scent of soap and gunpowder accompanies his nearer presence. (He'll never get rid of the gunpowder scent unless he abstains from using firearms.) "Soooo, what do you want me to help you with then?" He's as clueless as Selphie is in matters of weddings. Hell, even moreso.

Pulling the magazine closer to her chest as it's peered at, Selphie continues. "--Well, nothing right -now-! I mean, it's way too early to start planning things! Right?" She cocks her head to the side, smiling in a way that's helped her get her way many a time. "But once we figure out a -date-, you're gonna help me, rii~iight...?" That may or may not be translated as her pushing him to pick a date. She's not, in reality, but.

Irvine sits back again and groans, pushing himself back to lean against the wall. "Darlin', I'm not all that good at things like this." But, at that look and that -smile-, he has to resist the urge to twitch. Of course she'll get her way. She knows what ammunition to pull out when the cowboy is teetering on the edge of giving in to her. "Of course I'll help... I just dunno how much help I can be." Wedding date. Eep. Licking his lips briefly, he asks quietly, "Selphie... we can wait for the ceremony till, maybe at least December, right?" Seeing as his birthday's so late in the year, and he's getting ribbed about being too young for this as it is.

Score one for the Selphie. "Oooh, you'll be tons of help!" She's all positive and happy and such. Of course Irvy can help. Even if he just gives her a baaack rub, or brings her a driiiink, whilst she plans. ...Hmm... Closing the magazine and dropping it on the floor, the girl giggles at his next question. How cute! He wants to be 18 before they get married, which is completely understandable. "Duh, silly! We can even wait 'til the new year if you want. Or spring!" A spring wedding! "I'm not in any hurry... Are you?"

Irvine shakes his head, probably a little -too- quickly. He's not in -any- hurry to get married. He hadn't been in any real hurry to get engaged either, but she found the ring so that kinda forced his hand there. With a sigh of relief, he says, "Sounds fine to me, Darlin'. Don't need to really set a date yet, do we? Just say, like, spring or something?" Yeah, he does want to marry her eventually, but really, when has he -ever- moved with any sort of speed on anything? It was just seeing her reading these wedding magazines that got him suddenly worried. Then again, he has no idea how much pre-planning is needed for one of these silly events.